It was easier to love at that time,
It was the smallest bit of paradise, no more than a
drop of rain that fell as we fished.
The ant with her straw did not give up,
she is always the same.
She gleamed in the sun, she was on her way somewhere
with a secret she is still full of
and on the jetty where we lay on our stomachs we saw
the sea’s fluted bottom: the one who
slept down there with skin shining
did not forget us,
we were in love with the world then: there is
the beach where I poured sand over you,
the fear too is there, that glittering sense
of not really understanding, of being outside,
a part of it remains, a part
one shares with others
when one loses what one loves,
when one recreates it
when the smallest bit of paradise goes on glittering
among the days that we live.
From A Way To Measure Time (Contemporary Finnish Literature)